Me: "Who has the best seat in the house, me or daddy?"

Adam: "Well, Daddy's is nice, but yours is best. Your's is squishier."

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

One'a those days

It started to rain last night. 

And last night I got into a kafuffle with Ethan (you're welcome, Steph.  Just wait, I plan on using a few more of your words).  It was 11:30, and he was up trying to gather the Elvis costume together but he couldn't find the sideburns (What? Do you know exactly where your Elvis sideburns are right now?  Unless you are very organized, the location of facial hair of dead rock stars poses a cunundrum.  You're welcome again).  I sent him to look through the Halloween stuff, he left the garage door open, I scolded, he got mad, yada yada yada, he ends in his room playing really mad notes on his trumpet (which is what you do when you don't know a whole mad song).  It had turned into a very unnecessary hulabaloo (I need to start charging for those.  The words, not the hulabalii, which I can assure you is one of two possible pluralizations of hulabaloo). 

I walked into his room later (because 11:30 isn't really late around here) and apologized for my role in the bruhaha.  The trumpet dropped from his lips, the furrow left his brow and an easy smile slid over his face.  It had been hard work to stay mad at me and he seemed to be glad to be done with it.  He apologized for all of his skullduggery, got Elvis and his sideburns packed into a backpack (it was young Elvis, so he still fit) and headed off to bed.

When I woke this morning, all the foofarah from last night clung to me like white dog hairs on a pair of black yoga pants.  The house phone died (did you know that they need to be hung up once in a while?), my cell phone went missing (my message is Adam's voice saying "My mom can't find her phone right now, so please leave a message"), as did my white socks.  Late for volleyball and running around like a skatterbrain in tennis shoes and BLACK socks, I got to the church and no one else showed up.  I came back home feeling a bit snarky. 

An on and on went the day in much the same way.  It rained, kids squabbled, I reprimanded.  Lather, rinse, repeat.

At one point I sent Ethan on a bike ride to burn off some testosterone.  Tessa asked where he was and I said, "I sent him to blow off some steam."  At that very moment, Ellie began blowing her nose in the bathroom like she was in a marching band.

"Yup"  said Tessa, "I here'd him blowed it."

It's still raining.  In fact, forecast calls for mostly rainy days for the next week. 

I know that today was one'a those days. 
Maybe tomorrow will be less of a bungleflop
(yes.  I made that one up).


julean said...


This is priceless! I know I shouldn't laugh at your plight but it's really funny. Days like that are awful but make for a great story later on. Thanks for the laughs.

Love you, sis!

Rebekah said...

Oh this post explained my last week, words and all. I thought the older my kids got the easier it was, Nope not at my house.